Transmigrated into Conan, his ability is Rhodes Island

Heir.

This word was once an inescapable shadow over the hearts of all Terrans across countless timelines. This creation, born from the hands of a previous civilization, was originally Noah's Ark carrying the hopes of that civilization, but it caused the destruction of the world millions of years later.

Seagulls possess remarkable adaptability and evolutionary potential, even capable to some extent of autonomously choosing the direction of mutation and evolution. Furthermore, they have the ability to infect and assimilate other organisms. As a species with a strong sense of community, individual Seagulls exhibit a high degree of unity in thought, lack emotions, and prioritize the survival and prosperity of the group above all else.

The appearance of the Sea Si resembles a complex of beasts, aquatic plants, and coelenterates in this world. Their danger lies in their ability to physically cause sanity loss and nerve damage. Prolonged contact with the Sea Si or consumption of its flesh and blood can lead to the assimilation of one's mind, ultimately resulting in "embracing evolution" and becoming a monster just like them.

Within the myriad timelines displayed in the Time-Carved Stele Forest, the Doctor sees that the Terran humans have virtually no chance of victory in their struggle against the Sea-Children. Skadi is controlled by the Deep Sea Church, and Isamara, one of the Sea-Children's deities, awakens within the operator Skadi. In a parallel world, Isamara and operator Mizuki travel to the Deep Sea to avert this impending crisis. However, the Sea-Children's advance on the land continues unabated. People fight each other over increasingly scarce freshwater resources; while the Terrorfish prey on humans, some choose to worship and protect them; individual Sea-Children utilize their superior learning abilities and teamwork to overwhelm human unit compositions and tactical strategies. On the front lines, humans fighting against the Sea-Children will ultimately be devoured or assimilated by the Terrorfish… In this scenario, the "best outcome" is for operator Mizuki to sacrifice herself, maintaining peace in the Terran world for perhaps ten years, or perhaps a generation.

In his timeline, none of this had yet happened. He and Kal'tsit were working to nip the possibility of the Sea Heirs destroying the world in the bud. In other words, they were still in the early stages of their efforts, and everything would have to wait until the Deepsea Hunters team was fully prepared and returned to the underwater city in Iberia before any further plans could be made.

As a result, he ended up traveling to the world of Detective Conan.

It's one thing for him to have traveled through time, but he also brought these dangerous creatures from Terra with him; and to make matters worse, there's the appearance of a human traitor like the Iberian Deep Sea Church. Such people are despicable in both fiction and the real world. They're like the Adventists in *The Three-Body Problem*, hating humanity, filled with hatred and despair for Earth's civilization and humankind, helping the Trisolarans descend to Earth, and wanting to use the Trisolaran civilization to destroy all human civilization on Earth.

There is nothing new under the sun. Humanity's inherent flaws are universal, both in this world and on the continent of Terra. Compared to this world, such occurrences are even more frequent on Terra, which suffers from natural disasters, diseases, and discrimination. Besides the aforementioned Deepsea Cultists and humans who defected to the Seachilds, the Ambrosian Monastery, originally part of Iberia, once witnessed a scene strikingly similar to the present. The aging bishop, bewildered by the question of "what should believers do if their faith betrays itself?" Knowing he was powerless to save everyone, knowing the Lateran faith was false, he painfully decided to lead everyone to join the horde, becoming members of the Seachilds. He planned to add the flesh and blood of the Seachilds to his final communion.

Just like now.

In the main hall, Kazuo Yamamoto, the leader of the Kawasaki gang, had just finished his impassioned speech. His originally pale and gloomy face was flushed with a sickly red from fervor and excitement. He seemed to be parched from the speech, and with a wave of his hand, a servant beside him quickly brought him prepared drinking water. But if one looked closely, this was already the thirteenth cup of water he had drunk since arriving at the venue.

Before he could even put down his water glass, the leader of a gang he had never gotten along with spoke up with a sarcastic remark.

"Are you so desperate for shipping rights that you've made up this story to fool us? Do you really think we're idiots?"

No sooner had he finished speaking than someone chimed in, "That's right, just fool the guys, don't fool yourself too."

Kazuo Yamamoto calmly put down his water glass, not bothering to argue with the dissenting voices below. He stood up and took down a pocket knife that had been displayed as decoration on the wall. He held up the knife and showed it to those around him like a magician showing off a prop.

As everyone wondered what Yamamoto Kazuo was up to, he extended his left hand, holding a knife in his right, and slashed his left hand viciously. Blood gushed out immediately, the wound so deep that bone was visible.

A commotion immediately arose from the audience, but Yamamoto Kazuo himself remained calm, casually tossing the knife in his right hand behind him and using his free hand to gesture for everyone to calm down.

Then, something illogical happened. On Yamamoto Kazuo's left hand, aside from the initial gushing blood from the stab wound, no more fluid flowed from the gruesome wound, as if it had received the best possible hemostasis and bandaging. At the same time, the flesh around the wound was slowly wriggling, regenerating at a visible speed, indicating that healing was imminent. Perhaps in just ten minutes, the wound would be reduced to a faint scar.

Kazuo Yamamoto looked with satisfaction at the audience below, who were speechless with shock. "As I just said, the potion we obtained has astonishing power capable of overturning the world, and I wanted to share the fruits of our success with everyone immediately. But to my dismay, my good intentions have been misinterpreted by some people. Now, if anyone still has doubts—you may leave, and I will not stop you."

Naturally, no one left. When non-immortal beings climb to the pinnacle of power, living in luxury, they turn their attention to the realm of extending life. No one would refuse such an opportunity, especially when this seemingly unbelievable thing is happening right before their eyes.

Kazuo Yamamoto accepted the towel respectfully offered by the servant and casually wiped his hands.

“Since no one is leaving… then as I just said, to show my sincerity, everyone attending this meeting can be the first to receive the first batch of medicine.” He beckoned, and servants, some carrying white porcelain pots and cups of sake, others carrying food prepared in advance from the kitchen, filed in. They removed the champagne and snacks, replacing them with sashimi and sushi. They then began pouring drinks for everyone present, including Yamamoto Kazuo, who toyed with his white porcelain cup, his eyes barely concealing his excitement.

After the waiter poured him a drink, he raised his glass and said in a louder voice, “Gentlemen, you may think carefully about whether you want to drink. I’ll drink first, you can drink as you please.”

After saying that, he drank it all in one gulp, and then showed the others his empty glass.

The gang leaders who had initially wanted to observe further saw how readily he drank, and the sake, which initially smelled slightly of the sea, no longer seemed so unpalatable. A few of the more impulsive ones simply picked up their glasses, brought them to their lips, and prepared to drink it down.

A gunshot rang out, interrupting everyone's movements. These seasoned outlaws, forgetting all about the elixir, hurriedly put down their glasses and reached for their guns.

"Everyone, if you want to live, don't touch that drink. It's poisoned," the black-haired youth who fired the shot stated in a cold, emotionless tone from the back door. He lowered the still-smoking pistol and slowly walked into the hall, completely ignoring the fact that the gang members around him had already reacted and were pointing their dark gun barrels at him.

Only then did everyone notice that the target of his gunshot was Yamamoto Kazuo on the stage, but the other party dodged it with superhuman speed. The bullet that was originally aimed at his forehead only left a laceration on Yamamoto Kazuo's side cheek, which was now rapidly healing thanks to the powerful regenerative ability that Yamamoto Kazuo had just demonstrated.

With an unchanged expression, Yamamoto Kazuo signaled to his men not to fire, then calmly looked at the young man walking towards him and asked, "Who are you?"

The young man's pupils had turned into rhombuses at some point. He looked up and stared directly at Yamamoto Kazuo, who was a few steps away. His eyes were cold, but the corners of his mouth curled up into a gentle smile.

"I am Nidie."